Farewell the Lioness
by Apollo's Chariot
Summary: Yes, this story follows the 'Alanna goes to the convent' line, but with Daine evil, Alanna And Raoul in love and another "Rowling" to be pulled on J--never mind...CHAPTER ELEVEN POSTED! YAY! WARNING: ch. 11 contains bouncing boy, a kiss & moodswings!
1. Arrival at the City

A/N: I own nothing in this story (so far) except the plot and various names besides Maude, Thom, and Alanna ! No, I own Alanna!!! Really, I do! Just joking.  
  
~*Arrival at the City*~  
  
The girl bound her copper hair fiercely in a knot at the back of her head, and streamed curses silently to herself as the rain began falling in sheets around she and her old nurse, Maude. 10-year-old Alanna of Trebond was riding to the City of the Gods to become a lady-an idea that she quite thoroughly detested. She scowled darkly: her twin brother Thom was going to the royal palace to become a knight. Alanna envied him, and he her, but their father was quite strict in this sort of situation, so they had no choice but to obey.  
Maude gazed at the looming walls ahead, and spoke gently to her young charge-she knew Alanna too well to risk an outbreak of the girl's temper. "I will leave you at the main gate to the convent. Your father gave me this letter for the High Priestess-," Alanna took the document sullenly, "-and you will be assigned to a dormitory with the other noble girls."  
The girl's frown deepened at the thought of living with noble maidens, twittering and preening themselves, but rode forward into the City, leaving Maude alone at the gate.  
  
Alanna grinned half-heartedly at the hostler in the stable, then headed for the High Priestess's study in the main convent building. She walked slowly down a stone-flagged hallway, took a deep breath, and shoved open the walnut door at its end. Damn, she said to herself, why did I do this?! At a plain desk in the center of the small chamber sat a woman wearing rigid robes of midnight- blue, and a stern glare like the sun's shining rays-beautiful, but deadly if you get too much of them. Alanna clasped her hands behind her back before remembering the letter, and handed it to the woman-who was obviously the High Priestess. "Alanna of Trebond, at your service, ma'am. That's a letter from my father, who informed you of my arrival, I believe?"  
The priestess nodded, and gave a shadow of a smile. "Yes, Lord Alan sent a messenger by last spring. Now, my dear, you will not call me ma'am, but Mother will do for the time being."  
Alanna blanched at the thought of calling this woman "Mother," but smiled falsely as the woman continued.  
"You shall sleep on the fourth floor, room number five, which you share with three other young maidens such as yourself. I have already had your trunk taken up there. Your roommates will be waiting for you, and they will fill you in on the schedule and like topics. And, please, miss, change into proper novice attire, not that.thing you're wearing, all right? Off you go then!"  
Still blushing at the jab about her jerkin and leggings, Alanna ducked her head and fled into the hall.  
  
When Alanna entered number five, she found a small but comfortable room, equipped with four each of beds, nightstands, and pitchers. Three dove-eyed girls sat expectantly on their cots. One of them, with silky chestnut hair, rose. She smiled gracefully, and clutched her hands passionately together . "Welcome, Alanna of Trebond, welcome to the Convent of Arrelle. I am Feila of Cape Opaes, and these are Hannah of Dialin-," a short, sandy-haired girl with lashes an inch long bowed her head, "-and Rosa of Tirrsmont." Rosa turned out to be a tall, willowy girl with short black hair and dark hazel eyes. The three watched as Alanna sat on the edge of her cot and looked about her surroundings. Her mouth seemed hopelessly dry. "Er-hello, thank you. Um, could you tell me about the schedule ,and meals ? Things like that?"  
Hannah nodded. " Well, we have breakfast at 7 o'clock, then classes begin around an hour later. Then we take supper around 8 o'clock, and lights out is 11. We do not get lunch, except for on holidays." She smiled widely, and folded her hands in the most lady-like manner that Alanna hated.  
Alanna blinked her violet eyes, and lay back on her thin coverlet. Damn, she thought again, this is completely insane. Her lids grew heavy, and she fell deeply asleep. 


	2. What Kind of Posture is That!

A/N: Hey hey hey! I would just like to say to you all that I would MUCH appreciate some reviews, and that I do except flames although I would rather you didn't. Enjoy (I hope)!  
  
~*What Kind of Posture is That?!*~  
  
Rosa shook Alanna awake, however reluctantly, at six fifty-five. The girl half-shouted at the prone Alanna, "Hurry! or you'll miss breakfast! The others said you would wake eventually, but I wasn't so sure myself. The Mother gets angry if you miss a meal!"  
So the fiery-headed girl dressed in novice's uniform of white gown, blue sash, and white cap. The pair hurtled down a spiral stair, and into a large hall filled with long tables and high-backed oaken chairs. Rosa whispered in Alanna's ear, "Follow my lead and you'll do all right, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Rosa sat down at the far table, and placed her napkin on her lap. As Alanna did likewise, the High Priestess swept into the chamber and sat at a long board at the head of them all. She glared at the girls until they all stood, and said the morning prayer:  
"Great Mother Goddess, we do ask you to govern this humble dwelling justly and without undeserved kindness. Lord Mithros, please bless our convent and do not fail to protect our lands from harm. So mote it be."  
"So mote it be," they all intoned, and the servers went 'round with platters of toast, fruit, and fresh milk. Alanna took an apple, and bit into it with gusto.  
  
***  
  
Alanna and Rosa soon became fast friends, as both scorned convent life, and so they went together to their first class-etiquette. The lesson that Alanna dreaded most. Not for the last time, she thought I really am damned insane, I don't know what I was thinking. But she sat at a desk in the classroom and vowed to live through it.  
A priestess with a ramrod-straight back strode into the room and clapped her hands smartly. "Good morning, girls! I see we have a new face here, so you may call me 'ma'am.' She looked pointedly at Alanna, who smiled weakly. "Today we will be discussing correct body positions in public or courtly functions." "Ma'am" went about the room, passing out enormous volumes that looked extremely dry and boring.  
The violet-eyed girl groaned quietly, and Rosa threw her a sympathetic glance. Ma'am beamed happily, and lectured them on pose for a few minutes. She finally stopped, and looked about the room. "Would anyone like to be an example for how to hold yourself properly?"  
Alanna was just thinking how she would never do such a thing when Ma'am beckoned to her. "Come on up, Alanna my dear, come on!"  
She unwillingly walked to the front of the room, and tried to look the woman directly in the eyes. But Ma'am was looking, with an obviously practiced look of disgust, at Alanna's back. "What kind of posture is that, my dear!"  
She tried to control her embarrassment, but utterly failed. "It's my posture, Ma'am, and if you don't mind my saying so your posture is more like that of a sick cow than a human one!"  
The class waited with bated breath, as Ma'am fumed silently for a moment. "Unfortunately for you, miss, I do mind. Report to the kitchens at 5 o'clock every evening for the next week, where you might do some good cleaning pots."  
Alanna's cheeks reddened, but she sat down again without another word. Rosa squeezed her hand comfortingly, but she was too angry to pay any mind. 


	3. Joshua

A/N: So we finally get some ROM-never mind. You'll find out. Anyway, just so you know, I did change my penname, so if it says that I'm Gilthoniel, I'm not any more. Toodles! 3  
~*Joshua*~  
Alanna scrubbed mercilessly at the skillet, a few copper curls escaping their confinement under her white linen cap. Sweat beaded on her forehead, then trickled down her cheeks as she wiped her hands on her apron before resuming her work. "Blasted pots," she said to no one in particular, "stupid things have to go and get strawberry jam stuck to the inside of them-."  
"Pardon?" said a voice from somewhere over her left shoulder. She whirled around. In the doorway stood a tall boy, slightly older than she was, clutching a package and wearing a slightly perplexed expression.  
She grinned apologetically at him. "It's nothing, just grumbling about punishment chores." She set her skillet in the washbasin, and looked up at him. "What's your name?"  
He seemed slightly more relaxed. "Oh, I'm Josh-Joshua, actually. I live here in the City, and my uncle gave me a package for the High Priestess." Josh set the parcel down on the table and rubbed his nose. He had thick, wavy hair the color of sun-ripened wheat, and his eyes were the kind of blue that makes your heart feel free and endlessly joyful. "What, if I may ask, miss, is your name?" She turned back to the ewer of soapy water, and attacked the pile of dirty dishes. "I'm Alanna of Trebond. My father sent me to the convent to 'become a lady.'" She rolled her eyes.  
Josh laughed at her glower. "I take it you do not agree with his judgment?" He decided that her silence meant "yes," and went on. "Could you possibly give me directions as to the whereabouts of the Priestess?"  
The girl gave a derisive snort. "Really, you don't want to." She nonetheless told him the directions to the Mother's study before turning back to her pans.  
Josh was halfway out the door when he paused in the entry. "I think I should like to become your friend."  
Alanna murmured, "I would like that too." A voice said to her in her mind, You know you like him, are attracted to him, so why don't you just admit it! You're smitten.  
She jumped, sending a wave of sudsy water over her apron. "I do not!" she said firmly, and scoured the dishes almost viciously.  
***  
A ray of morning sunlight fell across tumbling copper curls spread out on the linen quilt. Alanna rubbed her eyes, and drowsily recalled that she had now spent exactly a month at the Convent of Arrelle. Weird, she said to herself, I'm actually glad that it's a Saturday. Normally I loathe Saturdays. She looked sleepily about the small bedchamber, and found that Rosa, Hannah, and Feila were still fast asleep. Alanna yawned, threw off her covers and, seizing some fresh garments from the chest at the foot of her cot went behind a screen to change. After securing her locks in two stiff plaits, she quietly stole out into the foyer and down the staircase. The girl stubbed her toe on a jutting plank, swore darkly, and hopped into the dining hall. Grabbing a pear from the bowl on her table, she abandoned the room for the cloister gardens to take a stroll.  
The gardens and pavilions were deserted at this early hour, so Alanna had the grounds to herself. Singing softly to herself, she roamed about the rose plots, and the lilies and phlox, the pansies and thistles, the poppies and forsythia. It looked to be an overcast, depressing August day, and her spirit was deteriorating, despite her new approval of Saturdays. "No, no, Alanna," she said to herself, in mock of her teachers, "you don't ever put your elbows on the table. Not even in private. NO Alanna, don't walk like that, you look like a something the dung beetle coughed up." She smiled wryly, and breathed deeply of the autumn flowers' balmy aroma. The girl was just rounding a bend in the path when she crashed into-Joshua.  
Her face turned several strange hues before settling on white. "Wh- hello, I-am, uh, surprised," she said, rather lamely.  
He seemed nearly as startled. "In fact, I was looking for you. When I asked your fellow...maidens where you might be, they were most unhelpful; most of them started giggling and blushing."  
Alanna chuckled bitterly. "Yes, that sounds rather typical of them. What can I do for you? You haven't been around since last month."  
He shrugged, his hands hanging loosely in his pockets. "I dunno, I guess I just felt like seeing you again." Josh stepped in closer, and they began walking towards a cluster of trees. "My uncle has decided that I should be sent to the Royal Palace to become a page."  
She stopped dead, and stared at him. Lucky, she thought. "That's great, Josh! When do you leave?"  
"Tomorrow, I'm afraid." He gazed into her violet eyes. "You're jealous."  
She scowled menacingly at him, and heaved an exasperated sigh. "I suppose you could call it that, Master Page. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I have to go to my Tortallan History class." Alanna made as if to walk back to the convent building.  
He stuck an arm around her waist. "Wait a minute, Alanna, we're not done talking yet-"  
Alanna rolled her eyes and removed the hand latched onto her back. "Josh, seriously, you're getting a bit out of hand! I have to go, now." She hurried off to her next torture session.  
Josh's hand fell limply at his side, and a shadow of a smile hovered on his lips. "She's quite a feisty thing," he murmured, and trudged down to the village.  
A/N: Okay, this is an updated form of Chapter Three because I ABSOLUTELY hated my earlier one. It was kinda strange, because (the story's rather long) my mom works at Bates College in Lewiston, and I'm in the computer lab there. I had to download the chapter so I could edit and revise it and stuff. So when I got into Microsoft Word, it was completely messed up; I couldn't have quotation marks, it kept on morphing into little symbols that I don't know the name of. It turned out that the language setting was French (Those Batesies, they're so strange! () Anyway, if you really hate Josh, #1), I totally agree with you, and #2), you should see what I have planned for him in chapter 6=7!  
MWAHAHAHAHA!!!  
~*Leah 


	4. The Hawk and the Horn

A/N: Ok, I know that this has been a little blah, but now (I hope) it should get more exciting. Please read and review and I love the two people who reviewed, although that could be taken as an insult.  
  
~*The Hawk and the Horn*~  
  
Alanna woke early, feeling acutely mutinous. The events of the day before *author winks* had left her in a relatively good mood, so she didn't feel any guilt at all at the idea of sneaking out of the City after breakfast. Smirking devilishly to herself, Alanna dressed, not in the cumbersome convent garb, but in a boys tunic and leggings of worsted broadcloth. Shutting the door quietly on her peacefully drowsing roommates, she made her way to the dining hall.  
After grabbing her usual piece of fruit and taking a swig of water, she checked to make sure no one followed her (which was pretty useless, as it was just about half-past-five) and searched the main parapet for a smaller, lesser known gate. The fruits of her labor were soon revealed, and she slipped out into the northern countryside.  
***  
It was the exact opposite of the day before. The sky was a clear periwinkle, the sun was bright as a freshly stoked ember, and the sharp air was clean. The slight young girl meandered happily through the light- dappled trees for quite a distance before realizing that something was very wrong in the forest. The birds were flying in packs-but not south, as is common in autumn.but north. Beasts were doing the same, but even bears and other hibernating creatures were joining in. "Damn," she breathed softly, and stopped walking for a moment, her brow furrowed pensively. A strange, musty scent entered her nostrils, and she froze. Where had she smelled that before? Suddenly a piercing screech rent the air and Alanna forgot all else as she threw her body down on the damp loam. Twisting her neck around to look at the sky, she gaped in horror and awe, as a colossal hawk swooped across her field of vision. But this was no ordinary hawk; its body was broad and feathered-exactly as a hawk's should be. But the head-the head was human. A young female, apparently, with tumbling masses of smoky brown hair, and full, stubborn lips. Her eyes were cruel and savage, as she coasted on an upper thermal, raking the woodlands for any sign of human intruders.  
Alanna ran into the shelter of a fairly large oak, and sat down, hard, against its trunk. There was no doubt in her mind: the animals had been following the hawk-creature. And it didn't look like they were ambassadors of the peace.  
***  
Lord Ushak smiled triumphantly at the slender young woman kneeling in front of him, and brandished the ornate bugle in his hand. "This, my dear, is the turning point in my plan."  
She gazed slyly up at him from under her lashes. "My lord, I believe that the horn was already in my possession before we even met and devised this scheme."  
He shook his head impatiently. "No no, Veriladaine, my sweet. This- this new regiment of creatures that you have managed to procure, that's what is wonderful." Ushak chose a ripe persimmon from a bowl on a hardwood table, and polished it on his brocade doublet. The room was built on grand proportions, but was as cold and bleak as the Scanran weather it endured.  
Veriladaine watched him eat the plum-like fruit voraciously, and curled her lip in disdain. He lusts for power, she thought, but in the end all he'll get is a dirk in the back and a moldering grave. She smiled graciously, however, and swept majestically over to a long, many-paned window. "Milord, the weather will doubtless deteriorate, so we must rush to accommodate all the animals we can before it begins to snow." She looked into his cold eyes. "That means that I must leave you soon, to further encourage them to join the rightful cause. If we hope to destroy the Tortallans then we must have them thoroughly convinced." The woman made as if to leave, then held back. "When I came to you last year, you naturally did not believe that I come from the year 461. In fact, I was a bit disoriented myself. In my time, as I told you, the Scanran people-my people, now-had already tried to dominate Tortall and failed. I felt strange yearnings for a less civilized way of life, and my thoughts fell on the horn that my old friend, Numair Salmalin, gave me as a birthday gift. He did not know its time-traveling nature, and therefore missed out on a wondrous academic discovery. But I discovered them, and came back to now, when we had a second chance at a great existence."  
Lord Ushak cut her off. "Dearest, you have told me all of this at least ten times. Please, if you have a point to make, indulge me."  
"I have done all of this for your benefit and our country's. So much of my effort is drilled into our project that it can-not-fail!" She emphasized each word by pounding a fist vehemently into her palm. However, Veriladaine soon regained her composure. "I will see you this evening, milord." She curtsied deeply, and fled quickly out the door.  
The paunchy man sitting on a magnificent teak chair laughed heartily, and reached for the crock of fruit.  
***  
Alanna leaned heavily against the granite wall of the outer convent, breathing in gasps. She had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was was deeply disturbing, even to a girl of such strong nature. She regained her breath and swore loudly. It was almost an hour after noon, by the looks of the sun! She had not meant to be gone quite that long. Pushing open the stout oaken door, Alanna found the class that she was supposed to be in (healing magics and methods), braced herself for punishment, and entered.  
Her first impression was one of incredulity. This puzzled slightly her for a few moments, and then she realized that her garb was a bit unusual for that of a maiden at a prestigious convent. She grinned somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry I'm late, Madam Orita," she said in a would-be-cheerful manner, and slid into a vacant seat. Rosa frowned curiously at her, but refrained from comment as Madam Orita was bellowing at Alanna in the most bizarre manner.  
"Young lady, just TRY and fool me, you are not getting away with missing the ENTIRE morning and then some of the afternoon too! I'm surprised at you, miss, and not the least bit APPALLED that you are bold enough to enter my class wearing that-that-well, never mind, just go to your room and change, and then go directly to the Mother, she will be most interested as to WHERE YOU'VE BEEN! You are dismissed, young lady, go on!"  
Alanna took this bit of good advice and strode as quickly as she could out into the passageway and down to the Mother's office. A developing feeling of utter doom grew inside her until, as she opened the door into the High Priestess's room, she couldn't help but feel extremely apprehensive of her fate.  
  
A/N: There you go, Daine fans! I really am quite sorry, all you guys and gals out there, but I am feeling evil and obnoxious, so I thought it would be a cool plot-if I do say so myself. I'm sorry if you think it's a cliffie, but oh well, just keep on reading. Remember, please R/R.  
  
DISCLAIMER!!! I do not own the majority of these characters. 


	5. Trek to the Capital

A/N: Hi everybody! Since at least two people have asked why Alanna doesn't switch with Thom, I decided to tell all you guys out there who were wondering. For no reason at all except that I thought that it would be an interesting "what-if" topic to write about. And if you don't think that that's a good enough answer, well, go write your own story, 'k? And pleeze pleeze PLEEZE REVIEW!!! I want five reviews before chappie six goes up!  
  
~*Trek to the Capital*~ (I know the title sucks, but oh well.)  
  
Alanna stared apprehensively at the woman behind the desk, and attempted to curtsy before falling over. The Mother said icily as the girl clumsily got to her feet, "I would expect better behavior from a novice at this convent! In all manners; deportment, language, gentility-all things which you, girl, lack!"  
She was tongue-tied, and made some sort of incoherent noise in her throat before the High Priestess cut in. "Go change out of that awful.thing and then report to Madam Aline's room for two extra hours of ballroom dancing. Continue in that respect for the next month, and if you have not cleaned up your attitude, young lady, we will either give it another month or send you back home." She promptly turned her gaze to a sheaf of documents on her table.  
Alanna stormed out of the chamber, fuming, but did not bother to go to her room and dress. Instead she went to the stables, picked up a currycomb, and began feverishly brushing her long-unridden horse, slowly relieving her fury. "Great Mother Goddess, that damned old lady is one heck of a woman, isn't she Aquila, good boy." She paused in her grooming. On sudden impulse, she hefted the worn saddle hanging on a peg nearby, placed it carefully on Aquila's back, and mounted him in one swift, fluid motion. "I've had enough of this place, eagle. We're going to Corus!" Aquila whickered softly, and as she dug her hells gently into his soft, roan hide, they leapt together into the afternoon sunshine, out of the gates and down the road.  
*** Sometime that evening Alanna began to realize that the feeling in her belly was not of impending doom, but of hunger. Shit, she thought, why didn't I think about tucker? She slowed Aquila to a halt, and, after picketing him by a nice patch of grass, went off in search of some stones. Even with her keen eyes she had a hard time in the growing dark, but she was able to find a handful of good sized, round slinging stones. But after a half-hour of waiting for some unlucky animal to wander by, Alanna was still empty-handed and hungry. "I guess I was asking for it," she breathed softly to her placid horse, and with that, she drifted off to sleep.  
  
The next morning she rose early and, though still bleary-eyed, managed to pocket a few wild crabapples she found growing off to one side of the thoroughfare. Giving one to her less-than-enthusiastic mount, the two headed off again down to the capital city. Mid-morning found them charging headlong down the dusty path in order to get away from barraging multitudes of black flies and mosquitoes. (*Author grimaces; can you tell I live in Maine?*) To her joy Alanna found that, after asking several travelers along the way, Corus was less than one days canter away. Although her belly was seldom full and oftentimes empty, she rode like there was no tomorrow. Finally, as the gloaming sun westered across the horizon, Alanna slowed her loyal charger to a trot and they entered the grand main gates of the capital city of Tortal. It was a rowdy inn, full of bawdy men and woman drinking, dining, and roaring with laughter. Alanna looked up at the battered sign dangling outside; it read: The Dancing Dove. She shrugged, handed Aquila's reins to a hostler standing nearby, and walked inside. A tall, buxom redhead at the counter smiled cheerfully at her. "Welcome, m'dear, to The Dancing Dove! Would yer be wantin' a room, my fine lass?"  
She nodded gratefully, and handed over a copper from her secret pouch hanging under her shirt. "Just for the night, please, ma'am." The girl was hoping to secure a job at the royal palace.  
The woman smiled again, and led her up a rickety staircase. "Th' room's right around the corner, miss, bit small, but there's a nice view of the city. My name's Rispah; if you needs me, just give a holler and I'll be right up."  
Rispah winked, handed her the key, and disappeared down the steps.  
  
Alanna flung open the shutters and looked out over the red-tiled rooftops. "I believe I might become a healer," she mused to herself pensively, and stretched out on her narrow mattress. It had been a long day indeed.  
*** It was almost noon when she hauled herself up and out from under her sheets. Yawning mightily, she threw some water on her face, wrinkled her nose at her unkempt reflection in the mirror (her shirt was a royal disaster) and sleepily stumped downstairs, where she turned in the key to her room. She managed to wake Aquila up, and, after cursing for several minutes (she had stubbed her toe on a nail sticking up out of the stable floor) Alanna rode to the palace, where the Royal Healer's Guild was. "Damn," she whispered to her steed, "looking like this I won't be able to get a job as a morgue-keeper." Once inside the infirmary, however, Alanna felt that she was quite capable of proving herself worthy. For the past six years Maude, her old nurse, had been secretly teaching the twins healing magic, and during her short stay at the convent Alanna had taken quite a few lessons of a much more advanced level.  
She was pondering this thoughtfully when a woman in the pale green tunic and beige leggings of the Guild noticed her. "Excuse me, may I help you.?"  
Alanna jumped. "Er-yes, thank you, um. I was hoping to get a trainee job here, to study healing?"  
The healer nodded. "Well, I suppose we could do that, if you could just step in here." She beckoned to the girl, who tentatively followed her into a small antechamber, and sat on a comfortable chair by a crackling fire.  
A notepad and quill appeared out of nowhere in the healer's hands. "Now, miss, you have the Gift, yes? All right." The pen scratched for a moment, and the woman went on with the interview.  
  
Nearly a half-hour had passed before the woman was satisfied. She beamed happily at Alanna. "We would be happy to accept your application, we are in such lack of enthusiastic young helpers these days. My name is Tianna, and you will be working with me for the next several weeks until we can see what you are capable of. Then you will be given a more permanent assignment." She bustled down a passageway, and opened a small, whitewashed door. "This is where you may sleep. We pay four silver crowns a week, not counting bonuses. You are served breakfast and lunch, but dinner is not provided; unfortunately we do not have much of a budget." After dumping a pile of clothes into Alanna's arms, she bustled away, closing the door behind her.  
Alanna sighed dreamily, and closed her eyes. She was tired, she had a job, and there wasn't a convent in sight.Suddenly a hawk swooped across her eyes, a hawk with a woman's head.Her eyes flew open. Where was the hawk? Alanna shook her head. I must have been imagining things, she thought, and looked out her many-paned window, resting her chin on her knees.  
  
A/N: There ya go! Hope you liked it, blah blah blah, PLEASE REVIEW! Remember, no more chappies until I get five reviews. You see, I WAN"T SOME FEEDBACK HERE! JEEZE!!! Have a nice day too. Oh, and bye the way, next couple chappies I'm gonna pull a Rowling. If anyone knows what I mean by that, I'll give them a box of Cheerios. : ) 


	6. A Trainee's Tale of Woe

A/N: OMG! I luv my reviewers! They are so awesome! From now on it's "Veralidaine," thanx so much Flaming Knight! Anyway, here's my chappie, just like I promised. : ) DISCLAIMER: I do not own most of these characters! I know, I'm PITIFUL!!! Yup, they belong to the ingenious Tamora Pierce. (She's so lucky.) Just so you know, when I say 'Healers' I mean the healers of that status-kinda like journeymen. When I say 'healers' I mean people who heal. : )  
  
~*A Trainee's Tale of Woe*~  
  
The man sat up suddenly in bed, his face a peculiar shade of green, and retched right onto the freshly changed sheets. Alanna blanched, stumbled forward automatically, and, using her violet-hued Gift, began eliminating the vomit from the linens. Magic made the job a whole lot easier, she had to admit. But, then again, sometimes the magic didn't quite work out the way you expected it to. There was one trainee who accidentally sent the entire sick bay up in flames just by putting a little too much force into setting a broken collarbone. Alanna managed, however, to complete the cleaning process without causing physical pain to anyone. She wiped her forehead with a sweaty palm, and looked out the window where the sun was approaching its zenith. Almost time for lunch, she thought, Mithros be praised. The girl hefted a basin, lugged it over to an endlessly streaming jet of water by the door, and filled it halfway. "Bloody sick people," she muttered under her breath, and deposited the ewer on the nightstand of one woman whose leg had been shattered in a wagon accident. The midday bell rang out over the city, Alanna silently thanked the Mother Goddess, and she slipped out into the courtyard after informing Healer Tianna of where she would be. Although the Healer's Guild served its apprentices luncheon, the food was, according to a certain red-haired girl who wishes to remain nameless, quite horrible indeed. So Alanna periodically ate at the clamoring in she had first stayed at upon her arrival in Corus-The Dancing Dove.  
  
Alanna accepted the tureen of beef stew obligingly, and immediately set upon demolishing it. The food there was rich and satisfying, and their lemonade was almost the best she had ever tasted. She sopped up the last bit of juice with a warm farl of nutbread, drained her goblet of cold, piquant lemonade, and started on her slice of elderberry tart.  
Suddenly a man wearing a rather ugly suit of armor clanged into the room, and the people fell silent. He strode about importantly, and knocked over several stools in the process. "King Roald has sent me with this most crucial message to the citizens of Corus." The man brandished a scroll, unrolled it, and began to read. "The Royal Family has received a letter from the nation of Scanra declaring war on Tortall."  
Alanna frowned, and looked up from her plate. "In the light of this matter, we have decided to deploy a force of knights, foot soldiers and cavalry to the border we share with Scanra. A select few pages will accompany this army, to study the strategy of war and improve upon their arms skills. Signed, King Roald the Peacemaker." The armored man rolled up the parchment and stalked out of the inn. His departure marked a flurry of activity in the room, as men and woman discussed this change of events in earnest. Alanna quietly paid for her meal, and headed back to the Royal Infirmary. She had a feeling that she would be needed.  
*** For the next few days nothing of an unusual sort happened for the handful of trainees. There were a few broken bones, a man with a back all chopped up from falling under his plow, but nothing outlandishly serious (A/N: I know, I know, falling under a plow is serious, but just go along with me here.). Then an order came from the queen asking the Senior Mages to send along a company of Healers and apprentices to the border zone so that the wounded might get better treatment. So precisely one week after Scanra declared war, Alanna found herself riding Aquila north, along with nine other trainees and ten disgruntled Healers. This suited many of the novices well, however. Alanna was extremely excited about the prospect of seeing actual battle, and was nigh on delirious before Tianna told her to shut up and keep riding. It was several days before they reached the Scanran border, but when they finally arrived, they knew they were at the right place.  
Slowing Aquila to a walk, Alanna dismounted swiftly and followed the Healers' lead to a makeshift stable amidst a copse of lindens. After filling the troughs with a mixture of oats and wheat bran, they trooped over to a clump of empty tents that one off-duty knight told them that sick- bay was in. "Wow," Alanna breathed softly, "this place stinks like a pigsty!" And indeed, the stench of rotting flesh and stale dressings was almost unbearable. Each of the healers dumped their belongings in a grungy corner and began scouting out the worst injured men. It was a gruesome scene; nearly all the warriors lying there were both infected and raving, or right on the brink of death already. Alanna chose a younger man with a badly slashed abdomen, and began pouring her energy into the wound, concentrating painfully hard. To her surprise, the nasty gash slowly began to seal up, and finally disappeared completely. She blinked. That's pretty handy, she thought, and began cleansing the pink new skin.  
***  
After hours of dumping her energy into someone else's body, however, Alanna grew quite tired. So all of the trainees were happy when they were told to take a short respite. Most of them chose to nap, although one slightly maniacal girl decided to take a walk around the battlefield-she ended up with a dagger slash across her forehead, although it was relatively shallow and easy to heal. Alanna slept fitfully, but was much refreshed after an hour or two, and began cutting and sewing and cleaning with renewed gusto. To her dismay the casualties kept turning up in droves, and all the mages were on their feet continuously. By the time they were allowed to retire for the night, it was almost an hour before midnight, and Alanna dropped, like a stone, into a deep sleep.  
The next morning someone clanging two frying pans together rudely awakened Alanna. It was about dawn, and she joined the rest of the younger set in groaning and making depressing faces, but eventually they went back to work. Sometimes it was quite dreary, other times much worse, and very rarely it was extremely fascinating. But it was always bloody, and gory, and fantastically smelly, so Alanna grew to dislike the entire thing. Goddess, she thought, this place is vile, and so it was.  
But then one day there was only one fatality. A fatality with thick, wavy hair the color of sun-ripened wheat, and eyes the kind of blue that makes your heart feel free and endlessly joyful. A casualty named Joshua.  
  
A/N: There ya go! I wanted to make it longer but it felt like I was kind of dragging it out as it was, so I didn't. Now you know what I meant by pull a Rowling! (I think you should, anyway.) Ya know, kill a relatively main character? I never liked Josh, anyway. Please R/R, you see that little 'Go' button on the bottom left corner of your screen? Yup? PRESS IT FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! And, by the way, I'm gonna be starting another story, for all you Ann Rinaldi fans out there. It's called 'Surrender.' and it's about 'Mine Eyes Have Seen,' but it's from Dauphin's point of view. Should be pretty interesting in the end.:`( *author sobs into pillow*) 


	7. The War Begins

A/N: Hey you guys! Hope you're doing well.My evil GRANDMA is coming today, so after this I'm not sure how often I'll be able to post over the next week, but oh well, I guess I won't die.Ha! That's not true! Well, at least she likes giving people presents a bit too much.Yes, I am greedy, and I'm only eleven years old... Anyway, I think I'm obsessed. I got the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack yesterday and I keep on listening to the part that plays when Will and Elizabeth kiss.darn, I'm going crazy. SHUT UP, LEAH, enough rambling! Here's chappie seven, hope you enjoy it, blah blah blah, READ AND REVIEW! Yup.insane.  
  
~*The War Begins*~  
  
Alanna stared at the prone form of Josh and decided that she didn't really care that he was dead. She watched two older girls cover him with a sheet and carry him outside, but she felt no pang of remorse for the boy she hardly knew.She blinked, and nearly spilled the bowl of soup she was carrying on the patient in the next bed over. The girl set the dish carefully down on a man's lap, and handed him a spoon. She yawned. Whoa, she thought, can't go all sl-sleepy, y-yet. She yawned again, and rubbed her tired eyes. Outside the tent the midges droned, and droned, and droned.  
An alarm going was struck somewhere in the camp, again and again, and Alanna was knocked abruptly from her reverie. The infirmary tents were in turmoil, with woman dashing pell-mell between the three shelters and trying to figure out what was happening. Alanna found herself caught up in a flood of trainees being herded outside, and found to her dismay that the camp was in fact being attacked. She grabbed the wrist of a young girl called Elanor and nearly yanked her down behind a large boulder standing by the edge of the treeline. There was smoke everywhere, and although they could not see much from around the giant rock Alanna knew that the Scanrans would be torching the camp. She was quite curious, however. "Just stay here, I'll be right back," she whispered to Elanor, and the poor girl was either so frightened or didn't really have a problem with Alanna getting herself killed that she nodded. The girl crept slowly around the rock and into the encampment. It wasn't really a very pleasant sight, although she hadn't been expecting one. But it was not the damage but the warriors that bothered Alanna. There were a couple Scanrans here and there, but the vast majority of the enemy was animals-but no animals that she had ever seen in her life. They vaguely resembled bears and falcons, raccoons and wolves, but they were enormous, fanged, and foaming like a stream at the mouth. She gasped in horror as a deer caught and gutted a pikeman on its antlers, then trampled his body beneath its flying hooves. But she had no time for wondering at the sight. As she crawled further towards the fray a burly, barrel-chested man came up behind her, and whacked her head with a heavy stone. He seized her by the shoulderblades, slung her over his back, and carried her north, into the forest. Alanna of Trebond was captured. (A/N: Sorry if it brings you too mind of in ItHotG, when she gets captured.)  
*** When she came to she was lying in the back of a cart with a young boy about three years younger than she was. Their wrists bound both to a metal post in the center of the cart, and the boy was still out cold. She pulled at the manacles half-heartedly, and sat back against the low walls. A canvas cover concealed the two from view, and a small jar of water was wedged firmly in place in a corner. Alanna uncorked it and sipped; it was quite warm and tepid, but better than nothing, she supposed.  
As if on cue the tiny boy groaned and rolled over, obviously awake. He saw her watching him, and asked in a small voice, "May I please have some water, miss?"  
She grinned cheerfully at him. "As long as you promise to call me Alanna, not miss." She held the bottle out to him.  
He nodded fervently and took the water. "My name's Sam. I'm the son of General Rygol." Sam took a great big gulp and then stoppered it back up. "Do you know where they're taking us?"  
Alanna shrugged. "Somewhere in Scanra, I suppose." She saw his frightened face, and smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Sam, I'll get us out of here somehow."  
He nodded weakly, settled his head on his forearm, and went promptly to sleep.  
Even though she had spoken with almost arrogant assuredness Alanna frankly had no idea how to get out of the whole mess. If she used magic to cut their bonds, they could hardly jump out of the wagon and run to safety. Once they were in Scanra they had even worse a chance of escaping. She shook her head wearily, and went back to sleep.  
  
When they woke the two captives were in a small dungeon with an iron grate, but at least they weren't shackled. A tall, pale, shaggy-haired Scanran guard was dozing in a chair just outside the grate. Alanna rolled her eyes; guard duty was obviously just as dreaded in Scanra as in Tortall. She stood on tiptoe to look out the narrow, slatted window, but saw only a short stretch of brown ground and a strip of gray sky. Sighing, the girl glanced at Sam, who was squatting by the lattice and seeming very interested in something. She cocked a brow quizzically, and hunkered down beside the boy. "What are you doing?"  
He grinned happily at her. "See this section of iron, around a half- foot long? It's rusted rather a bit, and it's quite worn in some places." Sam gestured to another segment of metal about a foot away from the first. "This one's the same. If we could somehow break through, we could force this middle area and crawl out. It'd be a sort of tight fit, but I think we'd manage."  
Alanna nodded slowly, and scratched her ear pensively. "I have a relatively strong healing Gift, but I can do a bit of fire, too. I might be able to melt these bars through, and then weaken the central ones."  
Sam was about to agree with her when an armored Scanran with a bright scarlet cloak strode pompously into the cell. He slapped the ward several times to wake him, and ordered the vault unlocked. "Lord Ushak wishes for the prisoners to be brought to his council chamber, you lazy lay-about, so get moving so that I don't have to hang about all day!" The guard leapt up and unbolted the jail door. Alanna clasped Sam's arm protectively, and the two were ushered up a stair and down several corridors by the mail-clad man. Two men in maroon livery threw a pair of grand walnut doors open, and the trio entered.  
Alanna's first impression of Lord Ushak was of a large, overgrown ferret. He had bushy white eyebrows, a matted mane of dark gray hair, and tiny, beetle-black eyes that were constantly twitching. He wore a dark purple doublet edged with silver brocade and a black velvet cape that, for some odd reason, smelled distinctly like mushrooms. Ushak gave the children a falsely warm smile, and rose from his smooth, elaborately carved chair. "Welcome, my young ones! I trust you have been treated well, yes?"  
Alanna snorted. "Well, if you call being captured, locked up, and dragged into Scanra being treated well, then yes, we have been treated superfluously well."  
Lord Ushak smirked nastily. "I'm not sure that I quite know what that means, little missy, but don't let it go to your head." He swept magnificently towards a window. "My dear Veralidaine Sarrasri should be arriving shortly, so I believe that I should clear a few things up with you." His leer twisted slightly. "After all, we don't want to get two children like yourselves confused, do we. Now, Miss Sarrasri is not one of our time." Ushak chose a pomegranate from the bowl on the table, inspected it, and flicked a speck of dust off it before continuing. "She comes from eighteen years in the twenty-six years in the future. Rather interesting, don't you find?"  
Alanna's eyes narrowed. "You really expect us to believe you, Ushak?"  
He shrugged. "You don't really have much of a choice, do you my dear." He bit into the fruit, and smiled appreciatively.  
The girl glowered. "There is always a choice," she gritted from between clenched teeth.  
Suddenly a door creaked open, and a spotted cheetah strolled nonchalantly into the hall. It rubbed fondly against the old man's legs and then slowly, almost casually morphed into a petite young woman with twisted masses of smoky brown hair.  
Alanna was not as surprised as Sam, as she had already seen this woman before, but it was still somewhat of a shock to see a sleek feline mutate into a lovely young maiden. Sam was gaping slack-jawed at the woman, who grinned impishly at him. Ushak cleared his throat majestically. "Ahem, may I present Daine. Daine, these are.two young ones from Tortall." Daine nodded graciously, and Alanna smiled in return, although Sam did nothing as he was still gawking unabashedly. Alanna nudged him, and he jumped, then jerked his head politely.  
Ushak smirked again. "I'm sure that you're wondering how Daine got here, but let's just say that it was a matter of-instrumental music, okay?" It wasn't a question, but the two companions nodded. "The main issue we would wished to discuss with you is this. We need information pertaining to positions of Tortallan troops, and are ready to torture for it. You were the only people stupid enough to get yourselves captured. Do you have information?" He spoke quietly and firmly, but there was a nasty edge to his voice that said he had power over them and could wield it at any moment. Alanna shook her head. "Nope, nothing that you haven't figured out already by attacking us." But Sam was twisting uneasily in place, and Alanna realized that as the son of a general he would have only slightly limited access to military intelligence. She glared at him, but not before Ushak noticed his unease.  
"You there, boy, what's your name?"  
"Sam, sir."  
The man whirled about dramatically. "You have knowledge that we might be able to use?"  
Sam nodded miserably, despite Alanna's pleading looks.  
Lord Ushak laughed, triumphant and slightly maniacal. "Excellent! Guards!" A pair of men wearing leather tunics and rather nasty expressions seized the small boy's arms and lugged him off, ignoring his frantic struggles.  
The girl glared angrily at Ushak, who merely laughed again. He nodded to Daine, who swiftly morphed into wildcat form and slunk out the door.  
Alanna bit her lip, fuming. How could she possibly save herself and Sam, without burying the entire country in a heap of trouble?  
  
A/N: Sorry if it seems kind of random that I killed Joshua off but he was bugging me so I just had to make him bite the big one.I do not own any Tamora Pierce characters, if you think I do you must be either terminally ill or even more senile than I am. That's saying quite a bit, actually.Please press the little 'Go' button, it won't hurt you and it really makes a difference to me *author gets all teary* so please review.I said please.Oh, and by the way, I revised chapter three because it was just creeping me out, so please read it and tell me what you think of it. I want five more reviews before I post the next chapter. Have an inordinately nice day and wish me luck with my grandma.*author grimaces and bares her teeth* 


	8. The Loftiest Spire

A/N: Hey everybody! I didn't get five reviews; I only got three, but oh well. I still decided to post because I got all sentimental when thinking about you guys sitting there waiting for me to update, which you were doing, of course (weren't you?). My grandma left yesterday, all's well and I'm not completely insane, which is good, I suppose. I don't own any Tamora Pierce characters, for the simple reason that I am not Tamora Pierce. Please read and review! ~*The Loftiest Spire*~ (Crappy title, haha, live with it!)  
  
Alanna toyed impatiently with her fork and waited for Lord Ushak to stop hogging the venison cutlet. He's a complete pig, she thought, doesn't he know that he's already served himself half the platter?! She wasn't hungry anyway, but Ushak couldn't talk when he was eating, and Alanna wished to interrogate him about what his guards were doing to Sam. Finally the lord finished loading his dish, and was about to dive in when the girl distinctly cleared her throat. "Ahem. Excuse me, sir, but I was speculating that you might clarify a few queries that I have?" She smiled inwardly, watching the man sitting across the table from her process what she had just said. Evidently, not all Scanrans had their complete wits about them. "Oh, of course, my dear girl, what sort of inquiries do you have to make?" Alanna set her fork down on her unscathed salad, and leaned closer to Ushak's face. "What is this Daine person doing with the animals?"  
He smiled reminiscently. "Ah, yes, my beautiful Daine. She invades the creatures' minds and convinces them to join my growing horde of man, bird, and beast. Then we collaborate to train them in the arts of war." Ushak stuffed a farl of sourdough wheat bread into his mouth, and spoke around it thickly. "Pretty simple, actually. Any more of your queries, my girl?"  
She curled her lip at the phrase, but smiled sweetly. "Where is Sam being retained?" He chuckled and popped a wrinkled almond into his mouth. "Not likely to tell you, am I, poppit." He snickered again, then leered wickedly. "And we may not even have him anymore." Alanna cocked a brow, and forked a clump of radishes. "Well, by logical deduction, I assume that you still are in control of the child, as we have been her a scant three hours or so. And, also by inference, it is most probable that you have not received any intelligence from him." She examined the radishes and chewed them thoughtfully, savoring the puzzled and slightly flustered look on Ushak's pudgy face. "But, my good lord, tell me. Is Sam in your custody somewhere in this lovely edifice of yours?" He sighed, and threw up his hands in mock despair. "I have no choice but to comply. Yes, the whelp is still here." She leaned even closer, and murmured softly, "My, but you are such an inordinately handsome fellow-I do believe that your hair is the finest I've ever seen." Idiotic scoundrel, she thought, as Ushak slowly fell for the bait.  
"Yes, I quite agree, although I am on in my years I don't have to be as repulsive as the next man." "Really? I thought that you were as young as that guard who took my small companion away, but obviously thrice as admirable."  
Ushak was visibly preening himself. "That barmy old ward? He could hardly climb all the way up the steps of the tower, let alone beat me in a conflict of image!"  
Alanna gazed eagerly into the lord's eyes. "Yes, I-wait, what tower do you speak of?"  
He waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, just the southern tower, it's the highest one in the citadel. We're stowing that bratty little boy in there, until-." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that, was I?"  
She shook her head, grinning like a slightly demented frog. "No, Lord Ushak, you were definitely not required to inform me of that fact. But that shouldn't be allowed to put a damper on this discussion." Her violet eyes sparkled mischievously, and she lifted the flagon of mead that stood nearby. "Would you like some more ale, sir?"  
  
Alanna padded softly along the darkened hallway. It had taken rather longer than she liked for Ushak to fall into a drunken stupor, but at last she was free to seek out Sam's holding cell. "He said it was the southern tower," she mused to herself, "so I believe it should be.this way." As she turned a corner a towering young soldier in the livery of Ushak's home guard suddenly stalked by. Alanna shrank up close to the wall, her heart pounding out a harsh tattoo against her ribs, until the man had disappeared and the hall deserted. That was too close a call for my liking, she thought, and resumed her pace. The night wore steadily on, the light grew steadily dimmer, and Alanna steadily became more and more tired.  
Suddenly bleary-eyed, she stumbled into the stone-flagged wall-except that it wasn't a wall, it was an empty space in the wall. The girl poked her head in the gap, and found to her somewhat insignificant delight that it was a staircase. And looking up the winding path, she found that it certainly was tall. "Great Mother Goddess-" she whispered, "-that is one hell of a climb!" The spiraling steps seemed to twist upwards in perpetual motion. Alanna blew out a sigh, and started climbing. Might as well get there by the end of the night, she thought irritably, and conjured a ball of incandescent, violet flame. As she walked the light illuminated the flight, and she saw that it wasn't really as long as she had originally believed. "Mithros be praised," she muttered, and stumped heavily higher.  
The first rays of morning sunlight crept across the horizon as Alanna approached the top of the steeple. She tottered groggily as she clambered onto the last landing, but righted herself as she heard a faint wisp of a voice from behind the small door that stood to one side. She groaned, and silently skulked up next to the solid, oaken structure to eavesdrop. It sounded like there was one guard in the chamber, and it also seemed like he was asleep. Every now and then came a coarse grunt, and the man was breathing heavily. Alanna gently tested the doorknob: it clicked, and swung open with the smallest of creaks. She stole softly in, warily glancing at the snoring guard, and knelt by the tiny boy lying in the corner. "Sam," she hissed, "Sam, wake up!" Alanna patted his cheeks, maybe a little too hard, and the child's eyes flew open.  
"Alanna! Where-where did you come from? I swear, I haven't told them anything, they didn't-."  
She covered his mouth with a palm, raised her brows warningly, and beckoned him out onto the landing. "Sam, these stairs are much too long for us to descend before that pig yonder wakes and realizes that you're gone. We'll have to.I dunno.it's a bit, well, reckless." The boy shrugged. "I'm up for anything at the moment," he said wryly, and she grinned. "I was thinking that we could climb out that window, scale the wall, and then go from there. It sounds rather foolish, and it is foolish, but it's our best bet." Alanna examined the window; it was quite large, a double- paned contraption. Luckily for them it opened at the middle, so you could prop it open with a stick. She pushed the bottom half up, and saw, with considerable relief, that there were small ledges every few feet along the turret's wall. With a prayer to Mithros, and an encouraging smile to Sam, the girl hoisted her body out of the window and began to climb.  
Once she got going it was substantially more effortless than the task had first appeared. The small projections were frequent and evenly spaced, the mortar was old and easy to find a good drip in, and Sam was capable enough to climb without her constant surveillance. Light was gradually seeping into the sky, but it was early enough that no one in their right mind would be awake yet. All in all, their luck was turning out for the better.  
After a while, however, the two comrades became tired-especially Alanna, who hadn't had a good night's sleep in at least twenty-four hours. Sam suddenly miscalculated a footing, and slipped several inches before regaining his balance. So Alanna finally stopped on the next ledge to relax a bit, and Sam stopped to rest also.  
She smiled wearily at the boy. "Had enough yet?" she asked playfully, and rumpled his hair with a sweaty hand. "It would appear," she went on, chancing a glance down, "that we are fewer than fifty feet from the ground!"  
Sam laughed dryly. "How wonderful. What do we do after we drop right in the middle of a city of angry Scanrans?"  
She patted his arm. "Duck and weave m'lad, then dodge the arrows and make a dead run for the gates. We'll be fine, don't worry." Alanna resumed climbing then paused to look back up at her young charge. "I'm sure they won't even be awake yet, the lazy scamps." As they slowly edged down the stone bulwark, the early morning sun shone gently on their backs.  
  
By the time Alanna dropped to the ground it was almost mid-morning, and a few men and women were outside, going about their jobs. The two companions silently darted across the field, and approached the colossal lumber gateway. There wasn't any gatekeeper in sight, so they counted their blessings and dashed headlong through the open doors.  
Outside of the fortress the terrain was much the same as that of Tortall and it looked like a lovely, late-autumn day was in store. Alanna towed Sam along by the wrist until he protested vehemently, and together they plunged through the wilderness. By the time the sun sank like a candied apricot into a molten bed of redcurrant jelly (A/N: Yummy!), they were already approaching the Northern Border, and their bellies were beginning to feel distinctly empty. Sam grimaced. "Alanna, you don't happen to be hiding any turnovers in that tunic of yours, are you?" She shook her head, and slung a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Just you wait, Sam. When we get home I'll buy you anything and everything that you would like to eat. Fresh meat pies with flaking, buttery crusts, plump pear and almond tarts piled with clotted cream, tankards of icy lemonade garnished with slices of lime, vegetable soup, piping hot, with chunks of potatoes, and beef, and onions, and scads of salt and pepper--."  
Sam cut her off by whacking her, not unkindly, square in the head. "Gaw! Cut it out, you twit, all that lovely food's set my mouth to watering like a flamin' river!" Alanna went into gales of nearly hysteric laughter, and the two friends flung themselves down amidst a small juniper copse, and fell immediately into a much-deserved sleep.  
  
***  
  
They rose at dawn, to Sam's disgust, and managed to find a small brook nearby. After splashing around in the water for a period they set off again, this time following the stream, in hopes of finding a village or fief. By noon they were so hungry that Alanna resolved to catch a fish. She found a stick, about a yard long, and began stripping it of its bark while Sam looked for a rock to sharpen the branch with. Finally they had turned out a decently proportioned javelin, so Alanna kilted up her skirts and waded into the water. About ten minutes passed before any fish chanced to swim by. A few tiny salmon swam by, but then a good-sized bass passed through, skulking in the shadows of the sloping bank.  
Alanna stabbed viciously with the lance, missed completely, and tried again. This time she was lucky, however, and got the fish full in the belly. With a yell of triumph, she tossed the bass into Sam's waiting arms and gathered wood for a fire.  
  
***  
  
"Several years ago my father took my brother and I on a trip to Goldenlake; we're in basically that same area. So we should hit the fief sometime tonight." Alanna turned the fish over on the fire, and tried to forget her endlessly watering mouth.  
Sam nodded happily. "And then we can eat as much as we want!"  
Alanna laughed. "You seem to be obsessing about food lately!" She gingerly picked up the fish, and dropped it on the dry grass. "I'm afraid we'll have to pick at it with our fingers, but it's loads better than nothing." They dug into the crisped fish, talking and laughing, but, most importantly, eating.  
  
A/N: Can you tell I was hungry when I wrote this? Heeheehee. Oh, and just so you know, Lord Ushak's castle is very close to the border, so that's why Alanna and Sam were able to get to Tortall so quickly. Please review! I'm leaving for overnight camp on Monday (CHEWONKI!), so I'm not positive that I will be posting until about a week from tomorrow. But hopefully I will post on either Friday or Saturday of next week, so KEEP READING! PLEASE! Thank you. And I posted the first chapter of "Surrender," which is Ann Rinaldi, and the first chapter of "Odyssey of the Mind," which is Harry Potter. Please read them, also. Don't forget to press the little "Go" button! It's really easy! Bye. 


	9. Goldenlake

A/N: Sorry about the little writing lapse there; I kind of got distracted. My honest apologies, I'll try to do better. I promise.  
  
~*Goldenlake*~  
  
Alanna rapped smartly on the gate, and waited impatiently for the sentry to poke his head through the small, latched opening.  
"State your name and business, missy," the grizzled man asked, although not unkindly.  
"Alanna of Trebond, here to." she cast about for an idea.  
"We're visiting relatives, who run an inn here," Sam supplied helpfully, and Alanna grinned gratefully at him.  
The sentry looked curiously at them, but forbore comment as the door gate slowly creaked open. "Just checkin', young'ns, there's word of Scanran mischief 'round these parts." He smiled favorably as they trotted through, and quickly clamped the sluice shut.  
Sam shivered as they made their way up a small hill, pierced by a wide dirt path. "It's cold here, I hadn't really noticed it before." The wind howled viciously again, and the small boy wrapped his arms about his body.  
Alanna grimaced. I hate cold weather, she thought fervently, almost more than I hate arachnids. She smiled at her companion, however, and bent her head as they forged their way through the gale.  
  
The stone fortress was large and imposing as they walked through the chilled halls, although Sam was fairly skipping as they followed the welcome scent of yellow curry and steamed whit rice. Goldenlake was obviously not a wintertime hostel, as the rooms were large and drafty. But the inhabitants were friendly and the accommodations were apparently comfortable (judging by the numerous hangings, cushions, and throws strewn about), so there was more than enough material to make up for the fact. Alanna pounded heavily on the solid mahogany doors that led into the dining hall, and covered a smile as she watched Sam jumping up and down slightly. A slight serving maid in a navy dress and smooth white cap let them in. She led them up to a barely raised table at the head of the banquet chamber, where a pallid, portly man with ebony hair and beard was sitting next to a tall, brunette in a yellow silk ball-gown. The man smiled kindly at the two children in front of him; one, a short girl with fiery red locks and a determined scowl. The other, a tiny, snub- nosed boy wearing a brown tunic and a cool gaze that occasionally strayed to the platters of food on the tables. He quietly watched them for a moment or two, as if they were several sparrows in a flock of geese, then spoke. "Welcome, my children." His voice was deep and calculating. "I am Lord Halles of Goldenlake, and this is my sister Lady Ylora."  
The immaculate woman inclined her head gently, a soft smile hovering on her perfect, rose-colored lips. "You are always welcome in our home, my little Burning-One, and you, the Jack-daw."  
"Is there anything that I can do for you?" Halles asked pleasantly, his voice dripping with syrupy refinement.  
Sam nodded enthusiastically, his head bobbing like a miniature piston. "Uh-yes, sir, could you-er-possibly find us some--."  
Alanna swiftly clapped a hand forcefully across his mouth, blushing. "Never mind Sam, milord, he's always ravenous. But there is something, we.Could we, perhaps, have a.private audience? Sir?"  
Halles chuckled, a rumbling sort of affair. "Of course, my dears, of course." He benevolently herded them into a round antechamber off to the side.  
  
***  
  
The two were seated, quite cozily, in smooth, carved oak chairs set before a low desk that was covered in green felt. Halles sat down heavily, and watched Alann, as if expectant. "Well? You desired to speak with me, removed from prying minds?"  
She swallowed. The man's tone was warm and friendly but for some reason, she felt, he was hiding something. "I-am training to be a healer at the Royal Infirmary. While I was on a field assignment close to the Scanran Border, I was captured and taken to a Scanran castle.perhaps forty miles from here, along with Sam here. We managed to escape and ended up here." Alanna paused for breath. "What I'd like to ask of you.we need to get back to Corus, and it's not likely that we could make it by ourselves. Would you.?"  
Lord Halles looked almost pensive for a moment but then grinned broadly and stood. "Of course, of course, I was planning on riding there myself, to visit my son Raoul, who is a page there. We will leave tomorrow, as early as you like."  
He walked briskly to the door, and held it open for them. "Well, now, my keen and honed instincts tell me that Sam is gnawing at the bit--" Sam flushed, and stared at his toes, "-so we might as well find you lot some edibles."  
  
Sam sighed blissfully as he gazed at the heaped platter of curry, rice, and spicy lime pickle in front of him. He bowed his head, muttered a prayer at top speed, and then launched himself into the mound. Alanna chewed a mouthful of rice and chickpeas slowly, her eyelids drooping. "Mmm, this stuff is prime vittles, and that's a fact." Sam frowned teasingly. "Shudden talk wif your mouf fuww." Alanna raised her brows suspiciously, and drained her mug of mulled cider. "This is the life, pal, I can tell you that." Lord Halles strode importantly over to their table, and smiled surreptitiously at them. "Well now, my dears, it is time for you to get some sleep! We will leave rather early on the morrow and I should like for you to be alert! You will find a dormitory at the end of that door." He gestured to a small door across the room. "Until first light, children!" The paunchy lord chucked Sam's chin, leered again, and sauntered back to his seat.  
  
Sam rubbed his chin slowly, a vivid expression of distaste on his face. "That man is." His voice trailed off, seemingly lost for words. "Let's just say I really don't like him at all."  
"Queer?" Alanna volunteered dryly, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Well, I suppose that we had best be sleeping now, oughtn't we?"  
The boy nodded, grudgingly slipped away from his place and followed her out of the banquet room.  
  
The dormitory was almost empty except for two older women and a middle- aged man on the far side of the chamber. The beds were small but clean, with fresh cream-colored sheets, blue woolen blankets, and a nightstand and pitcher in between every pair of cots.  
Alanna collapsed with a sigh onto the blankets of the bed nearest to her and, without even bothering to take off her boots, buried her face into her pillow. Sam quickly followed suit, although he at least removed his leather galoshes.  
A shaft of moonlight streamed fluidly in through the many-paned windows, like a rivulet of perfect, silvery mercury, and fell upon the now slumbering occupants of the dormitory. Nighttime gently whirled it's velvet cloak of darkness, and the lustrous stars upon it shone with a celestial radiance like the glint of the sun on the wide, heaving waves.  
  
***  
  
The next day, as early light filtered through the hemlocks and rowans, Alanna and Sam were riding borrowed ponies along a wide dirt road. Lord Halles and one manservant accompanied them, and Halles made an attempt at conversation with Alanna. It was obviously a failure, as Alanna absolutely refused to chat with him. She merely sat sullenly in her saddle, bleary- eyed and scowling. Sam, however, bantered amiably with the older man, only a masterfully hidden mistrusting look betraying his true feelings.  
They rode all day, eating but the little that they could manage on horseback. When evening fell they camped underneath the stars, the two children side by side in their borrowed bedrolls.  
When they woke at dawning the welcome aroma of warm porridge wafted from the cooking pit. Sam then gave an almighty whoop, leapt from his blankets, and raced to the fire to find the manservant (called Wryn) stirring a large pot of hominy. He was closely followed by a less awake (but none-the-less voracious) Alanna, who immerged from her quilts with bedraggled red curls and, to her dismay, a numerous amount of mosquito bites up and down her body. (A/N: My personal experiences at camp! Lol) Lord Halles was evidently lying in a bit later.  
Alanna hunkered down on a low boulder next to Sam and watched Wryn dole out bowls of porridge to them.  
The small boy flashed a smile at her, and returned his attention to the oatmeal. "You wouldn't happen to know how much longer an excursion this should be?"  
Alanna breathed deeply of the sharp morning air. "Oh, I dunno, perhaps two day or more. Even though my father taught Thom and I all that logistics stuff, I'm still not quite sure."  
Wryn abruptly interrupted their discussion by handing each a tureen of porridge. "There you go! I've got some cream, if you like, we'll have t use it eventually or it'll go bad, and some raspberries I gathered on the trail."  
Sam nodded breathlessly. "Give them here, go on, give them here-."  
Alanna frowned disapprovingly, and smiled apologetically at their cook. "You'll have to excuse Sam, sir, he's a bit of a wart hog when it comes to meals!" The boy pouted, and jabbed her with his free hand. "S'not funny, 'Lanna, s'mean!" His mouth was so crammed with porridge, cream and berries that the girl winced and dug into her own dish. Lord Halles ambled complacently over to the three, and beamed affably at them. "Good morning, my ducks, I hope you slept well?" Alanna nearly choked on a raspberry. Ducks? She thought incredulously. What does he think we are, farm animals? She merely grinned back at him, although she remembered to chew and swallow first. Halles popped a ladle-full of oatmeal into his mouth and declared himself full. "If you would please, my ducklings, I should like for you to be ready to leave, say, in five minutes or so." It was an allegation, not a question, and they readily complied.  
  
The tetrad rode for several more days, slowly traversing the southwestern causeways to the Capitol City of Corus. Remarkably enough the weather was, if a bit crisp, clear and bright, so they were able to make good time. And so, one blustery day in November, they pulled their mounts to a halt in the Royal Stables.  
  
A/N: "Halles" is pronounced "Hallis," just so you know. Please review, I'm desperate for attention. Hehehe. Anyway, update will most likely be a bit less frequent now that school has started but I will honestly try to be consistent. Please read "Let Me Go," previously called "Surrender," (sucky name) it's actually better if you haven't read the book before. In fact, it's not as dull that way, ::sob::. Alrighty, well, I hope you have a nice day. Oh, and just so you know, the Nameless Ones will have something to do with my future plot.Find a Nameless Ones reference in this chapter and I will personally invite you to my lovely website for tea, cookies, and hot cocoa. I love cocoa. Hahaha. I hope that this was long enough for you. 


	10. Suspicions Revealed

A/N: You don't know how badly feel about not having posted since September. I feel AWFUL! Luckily, a wonderful person reviewed and their review said something like: "Great story, keep on writing." I bet you can all guess which part made me feel guilty. So I started frantically writing chapter ten of Farewell the Lioness, which I present to you now. Please review and I hope you enjoy!  
  
Chapter 10: Suspicions Revealed  
  
Alanna buried her face into her pillow, breathing in the scent of fresh linen and the faint tang of lemon soap. She and Sam were assigned temporary quarters in the Royal Palace, and they had been settled in quite comfortably for and hour or so. Grinning up at the whitewashed ceiling, Alanna began to drift off. Never had a mattress seemed so welcoming, nor a quilt so soft, nor a day so tiring...  
  
~~**~~* She was walking down a twisting road that disappeared into the melting sun. Her ash brown hair was cropped to the ears, her once soft, full mouth now hard and cruel. Crouching to the ground, she took a forked rowan twig from a pouch at her belt and scratched an arcane rune in the dry earth. Then she emptied her water bottle into the cracks. A howling, keening sound filled the branches of the bare elms and the earth groaned. She laughed harshly, the long, jagged scar on her cheek buckling grotesquely into shriveled folds of skin. Putting and ancient ivory horn to her lips, she blew; but no sound could be heard. Laughing again, she turned and retraced her steps. Suddenly the air froze and twisted, splitting into two near-identical frames of light. One the same she stood in, the other almost transparent. Again she sounded the horn and leapt into the new, clear frame. The air exploded with violent sound and wrenching, grating shrieks, wailing, screaming, ripping, cracking noise that seemed to split the mind— *~~**~~  
  
Alanna sneezed, once, twice, three times in a row. Her whole body was cold, shivering as one who as spent the last hour vomiting. She shut her eyes for a moment, struggling to regain her composure. Was that just a dream, she thought, or some sort of vague foreshadowing, a prophecy? The girl climbed out of bed and threw open the shutters. Shivering in her filthy green healer's tunic, Alanna breathed in the sharp autumn air, her copper braids teased by the breeze. The burnished gold sun fled behind the clouds.  
The girl sighed and turned back to her rooms. She noticed a fresh wool tunic and divided skirt thrown over the privy door. After swiftly changing and warming herself gratefully beside the brazier, she bounced on the bed and suddenly realized, Today I am eleven! She laughed internally. In all the excitement of the past few weeks, she had completely forgotten about birthdays.  
Someone banged on the door, and a high-pitched voice yelled, "Come on, Lan, we're late for lunch!"  
Alanna slid the bolt back and opened the door. Sam grinned hopefully up at her, and beckoned. "Lord Halles said we can eat with him and his son in the hall!" His smile faltered at her strange, slightly dazed expression, and he frowned a little. "What is it?"  
A shadow passed over her violet eyes, but she shook her head and followed him into the corridor. "Nothing. Now where did he say this hall is?"  
  
***  
  
Sam sighed with pure bliss and dug into a large tureen of vegetable stew. He slurped at his goblet of mulled cider and spluttered contentedly.  
The tall, broad-shouldered page sitting across the table glanced apprehensively at Alanna, who winced slightly and eyed her plump, crimson apple with distaste. She leaned across a dish of fruit to the lad, Raoul, Lord Halles's son, and a page several years her senior. She whispered confidentially into his ear, "I believe he's had a very trying childhood of late. He finds a sort of mutuality, a comforting understanding, in the culinary arts."  
Raoul frowned, amused. "He cooks?"  
She laughed, shaking her head as Sam shoved an entire loaf of bread into his already crammed mouth. "I'm afraid not. One day he'll be renowned—Samuel the Ravenous, scourge of all good and undeserving kitchens!"  
The page chuckled, but said "One day, you say? I think not; he already has fulfilled the title you give him. Little tyke..." He choked, nearly spraying Alanna with cider as he shook with mirth at the sight of moist bread leaking out of the gorging Sam.  
Lord Halles strutted over pompously and sat down next to his son. "Mithros be blessed, there's some drunkard with gray hair and baggy hose that tried to lecture me on the Code of Chivalry. Wouldn't let me go until I'd listened o his opinions on the thing—and they weren't complimentary, I can tell you that." He took a deep draught of mead from his goblet.  
Raoul suspiciously poked his baked squash with a knife. "That would be Sir Myles of Olau. He's a professor of history...I think." Seeing his companions' questioning looks, he added, "He teaches a sort of mash of history and strategy. The King's chamberlain must have been a bit vague on the job description, or else Myles was drunk when he was offered the position."  
Halles shrugged, and turned to Alanna. "Duke Baird—you know, the chief healer in Corus—says he would be happy to train you in the Royal Infirmaries again. Naturally he was less than optimistic at first, hearing of your disappearance up near the border, but upon hearing your story he was quick to agree." His falsely pleasant demeanor changed rapidly as he placed a hand on Sam's shoulder (the boy was currently devouring a bowl of peach trifle with clotted cream). Halles growled deep in his throat. "And you," the man whispered, his unctuous, oily voice suddenly gone cracked and cold. "We shall have to do something about you, won't we. Perhaps you can come back to Goldenlake with me." It was a command, not a question, and Sam shook under the burly man's grip.  
Alanna half-jumped up, her eyes widening. No harm had the boy done to Halles, but she dreaded the thought of what the noble might do to the boy if he had custody of him. "No, my liege, that will not be necessary! He'd do better to come with me, or at least stay with a friend in the city."  
Halles narrowed his eyes like a hideous vulture eyeing a moldering carcass. "And what would a snippet of a country girl know of cities? You will leave him to ME, and no other!" His grip suddenly tightened like a vice on Sam's shoulder, and the boy began to thrash and struggle.  
Alanna bristled. She now felt she knew what Halles meant to do with the boy. I should not have told him of Sam's parentage, but she collected herself and scowled up at the bulky nobleman. "Unhand him, NOW!" she yelled, and the hall suddenly went quiet.  
A shaggy-haired, saggy-hosed noble (apparently said Sir Myles) took a few steps menacing steps towards Lord Halles, who plastered a toothy grin on his fleshy face and shoved Sam aside. As soon as the hall burst back into nervous chatter, Sir Myles glared piercingly, although somewhat drunkenly, at the smirking lord. "I would advise you not to do that again," he said icily. "King Roald is not particularly...pleased with your conduct after the incident last summer." The knight turned to Sam, who was hiding his face in Alanna's pressed yellow tunic, and woozily ruffled the boy's hair before making as if to leave.  
Alanna however, pried Sam off of her waist and hurried up to Myles. "Sir, what 'incident' do you refer to?"  
The man looked at her strangely for a moment. "Are—are you? What?"  
Alanna stared, puzzled, at him for a moment, then laughed. "Oh! My brother Thom is in page training here. He's my twin."  
The knight breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good. For a moment there I thought that I was so drunk I was seeing double. Well, my most revered Lord Halles of Goldenlake over there was accused of setting up arms and weapons commerce with the Scanrans, on friendly terms, no less! He was tried this past summer and found guilty, but he bribed the Provost into pronouncing his innocence."  
Alanna raised a ginger brow, and Myles smiled apologetically. "They never actually found proof that this was the case, but—" he said this mysteriously, "I have my connections." He coughed, swayed a bit, and patted Alanna gently on the head. "So, what might such a pretty twin-to-a-magic- obsessed-page's name be?"  
She grinned cheerfully and offered a hand to be shaken. "Alanna, sir, Alanna of—of Trebond."  
Sir Myles frowned thoughtfully. "That...that would make your male parental unit—your father, sorry, that would make your father be Lord Alan?"  
She nodded wryly.  
He smiled happily, although it might have been the drink getting to his head. "Nice, scholarly chap, that one. Been a long time, it has..." He nodded tipsily to Lord Halles who was glumly downing tankard after tankard of spiced mead. "Never was too friendly with that one, though...Can't really blame him. The young Halles was always playing dirty tricks on the first- years..."  
Alanna, reminded suddenly of Myles' account of Halles' trial, opened her mouth to ask a question, but froze in a horrified silence. Halles, subdued the moment before, was staring hard at Sam, his pale, damson-hued eyes ringed with livid orange fire. The boy clutched at his throat, his face turning the shad of an eggplant, his skin shimmering with the same orange flame. Magic, Alanna thought furiously, and hurled herself at the pallid man. Time seemed to hang in the air as both she and a howling Raoul bowled the lord over, and Sam's eyes rolled up in his head as he collapsed.  
Alanna gritted her teeth with anger as she checked Sam's pulse. "Great Merciful Goddess! What a complete idiot! And a smart one, no less..." Still fuming, she laid a hand over the boy's forehead, shut her eyes, and willed him to wake.  
He coughed, spluttering and wheezing. "What—what happened, Lan?" Sam grimaced, rubbing his aching head.  
The redhead scowled and helped him to his feet. "Bloody lord tried to strangle you. I didn't know he even had the Gift—wasted on the pig, if you ask me."  
Sir Myles approached them, now ashen-faced and shaking. "But Miss Alanna, that's the thing—he doesn't!"  
Alanna frowned. "Doesn't what?"  
Raoul sighed, rubbing his temples in confusion. "He doesn't have the Gift. My family is magic-less." He exchanged a long glance with the knight, and put his head in his hands. "And the only person I know of with that color magic is Prince Jonathon's uncle—Duke Roger of Conte."  
  
A/N: The plot thickens...(  
Well, please review; I hope you liked it! I've got a lot planned for you, so with any luck I'll post at least once a month...huh, with an awful LOT of luck...oh well, may as well be optimistic. Cheers!  
~**Leah 


	11. All Good Things

A/N: Hey, you know what? This updating thing might actually start becoming regular! I'm very proud of myself.....Well, here's chapter eleven of Farewell the Lioness....R/R, and I hope you enjoy.  
  
Chapter Eleven: All Good Things...  
  
Late November days are cold and dreary. Spiced cider and warm crumbcakes are welcome in the evenings, a blessed reminder of sun and light and growing things. The dead brown leaves are blown away, and the city streets are clogged with the debris of autumns past. All in all, it is not a very pleasant time of year.  
  
Ben snored away like a hog on top of a faded hassock in front of a spitting fire. Sitting in Sir Myles' study, he and Alanna had been ushered in not moments before, and already the boy was drooling on the carpet. With an exasperated sigh, the redhead explored the room.  
It was a peculiar, octagonal-shaped chamber, with fresh white paneling and thick braided rugs. A round table stood in the center of the room, piled with leather-bound books, bits of parchment and dry inkbottles. Some dozen crow's-quill pens were arranged in a box exquisitely inlaid with amber and jet mosaic. Alanna thumbed through a massive tome on political theory but set it aside almost immediately (only her father's doctoral essays about philosophical war had ever seemed drier to her). Either Myles was partly insane or he had a great acceptance of bad literature.  
Something snagged her gaze. An enormous diagram that covered almost the entire table, its edges weighted down by books she had thought randomly placed. It seemed to be a map of the Tortallan border with Scanra, but it had the strangest markings. What were those crimson blots?  
She heard footsteps down the hall and peered even closer at the chart. Tiny black arrows, green and blue triangles--what did they all mean?  
There was a fumbling clatter outside the door and Alanna hastily began pacing the room as a significantly more sober Myles strode in, followed by Raoul. A grim scowl was set upon his face, and Raoul cringed as Alanna frowned skeptically at him. The grizzled knight collapsed in an overstuffed armchair, nearly knocking Ben to the floor as he did. The boy yelped and clung to Alanna, who rolled her eyes at Raoul and awkwardly knelt beside the glowering knight. "My lord? What news, sir? Was the Lord Halles under a spell?"  
Raoul sighed heavily, and Myles chose to scowl even more angrily by way of answer. Finally the page replied. "No, Alanna, not in that context. For 'under a spell' implies involuntary actions. And my father..." he trailed off. His face darkened.  
"This was more like cooperation," Alanna finished dryly, and he nodded.  
"Somehow a powerful sorcerer--very powerful--was feeding his Gift into Father's mind. Then he could use it to do whatever damage he liked. His Majesty's scryers have found this much, at least." His normally cheerful visage appeared drawn and haggard.  
Ben detached himself from Alanna and looked up at Raoul. "But since Halles doesn't have the Gift, wouldn't he need more than just one dangerous mage to lend him magic?"  
"From the mouths of the babes," grumbled Myles, and he frowned at the merrily blazing fire.  
The older boy scowled and began to pace, subconsciously grinding his teeth. "That's just it! It's three powerful men, mentally and physically connected, not lending each other magic but combining and strengthening it! And we believe one of these mages is a Scanran. Mithros, these people are good."  
"Ushak," Alanna breathed contemptuously, and Myles gave a harsh, bitter laugh.  
"Exactly. And they're using their mixed powers to help wreak Scanra's total domination of Tortall--perhaps even all of the Eastern Lands."  
Ben shivered and edged closer to the fire. "But Myles, I don't understand--who's this third man in the network? We've got Ushak Halles-- who else?'  
A dark glance was exchanged between the knight and the page, and then the man went on. "There are two possibilities, neither to my liking. Either the Carthaki Emperor Ozorne or the King's brother Duke Roger is in league with young Raoul's father. Both are extremely accomplished sorcerers and warriors, and both are very powerful. Not very good odds for our side of the deal."  
A puzzled look crossed the boy's face. "Isn't he a shapeshifter? The Ozrone guy?" "Ozorne," Myles corrected, but he shook his head wearily. "I don't know, child, but i wouldn't be surprised. He is a man with many tricks up his sleeve, and other places besides."  
Yet the tiny boy's query had triggered some vague memory in the back of Alanna's mind. Why did the word "shapeshifter" send cold shivers running up and down her spine? Suddenly it hit her, and she gasped. "Myles--I mean, sir, when Ben and I were in Scanra we saw this young woman in Ushak's court. Ushak said she was from the future--year 461! And what's more, she's a shapeshifter and an animal mage. She's been calling to the forest creatures and summoning them north, building an army to rival any troops or battalions of ours."  
The man blanched and stiffened in his chair. "So the rumors are true..." he muttered to himself and sunk back into his angry stupor.  
Raoul rubbed his head tiredly. "Let me get this straight--our Scanran slimeball has found a time-travelling, form-jumping girl who can communicate with animals and recruited her in his schemes?!"  
Alanna bobbed her copper head. "I know it sounds eccentric but we saw her change forms right in front of us--vicious leopard to gorgeous woman, just like that!" She snapped her fingers for emphasis.  
Myles finally stirred, and slowly got up from his chair. "The truth is, we've been anticipating something strange for a while now." He walked over to the central table, cleared away the books and smoothed the creased map underneath. "This is a graph of the northern border with Scanra, and the lands nearby. My scouts in the vicinity have reported two consistent occurrences for the past three months. One, the total absence of animal life on each side of the border, within one hundred miles, running north to south. And two, there have been frequent earthquakes high in the Grimhold Mountains. You've explained the first situation, but i haven't been able to find anything pertaining to the quakes. Hopefully they're unrelated incidents, but at such a high rate...I highly doubt their innocence." In answer to the girl's mystified expression, he added, "I'm the king's Spymaster."  
Alanna exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Raoul, who groaned and rolled his eyes. "And you're telling us why?" she questioned indignantly.  
Myles chose to forgo answer, but instead beckoned them closer to the table. "See these black arrows? They mark the locations of my scout outposts. The numbers have more than doubled since Lord Halles' trial."  
Alanna made a mental note to herself that she should remind the absent- minded knight to stow his secret documents somewhere out of sight. At the moment, however, she was too fascinated to intervene.  
Ben pointed at one of the large scarlet blotches. "What's that mean, sir?"  
The nobleman sighed. "That's a village that was destroyed in an earthquake last summer. Three of my rangers were killed."  
The tiny towheaded boy gulped. "But--there's so many!"  
Myles nodded sadly. "Five hundred settlements reduced to rubble--three thousand dead total."  
Biting her lip, Alanna lowered her violet eyes. Three thousand dead villagers? Who was responsible, if anyone? A horrible lump rose in her throat.  
Raoul tapped the green and blue triangles. "And these?"  
Grimacing slightly, Myles traced the buckling line the marks made along the spidery-thin border. "The green signs are where Ushak is building fortresses. The blue are where he's billeting soldiers."  
A chill silence crept over the study as the three children mulled this over. They had not realized the war was going so badly for Tortall--indeed, it was worse than even Myles knew.  
Pale shafts of moonlight filtered through threadbare curtains, shining in the wide cracks between the floorboards. The fire coughed and snapped, sending plumes of smoke up the flue.  
The knight gave a sudden start. "But come, I have told you too much already. Raoul, go do your philosophy homework, or you'll never get it over with."  
The page swallowed a retort, and departed with a friendly grin thrown back at Alanna.  
  
An uncomfortable, quiet tranquility settled over the room once again. Alanna fidgeted nervously with the fraying hem of her tunic, trying and failing to appear relaxed and at ease. Ben clung fondly to her hand, to her dismay, and became captivated with the lines on her palm. She ignored him and counted the red spots on the knight's map. Two, four, six...  
Finally Myles noticed them, and vaguely waved his hand at her. "Go on, off to Duke Baird! He's expecting you, it won't do to keep him waiting." At her slightly perturbed glare, his expression softened a bit. "My dear girl, I will personally make sure Halles stays away from the boy. And Baird is not a nasty axe-wielding boar; he's quite nice, as a matter of fact. Now go to the infirmaries, and keep Ben with you--out of trouble, mind. Run along!"  
She smiled, attempted a curtsey, fell over, and leapt up, flushing madly. "Thank you sir, was her spontaneously farewell, and she fled, dragging Ben after her.  
"Now there's a nice lass, make no mistake," Myles declared to the empty room, and poured himself a tall glass of wine.  
  
* * *  
  
Alanna knocked on the elegant mahogany door and tried to forget the events of the afternoon. Gods but they had been confusing. Not that she was successful, but the one thing in the world that she longed for most was a clean bed and fresh linen sheets...Ben bounced dreamily behind her.  
The door swung open and she found herself staring at Duke Baird's stomach. She was force to tilt her head almost to her shoulderblades to see him fully--he was almost twice her height.  
The man smiled kindly and bade her enter. "I take it you are Alanna of...Trebond? Yes, yes, Tianna has told me about you. Come in." he peered around her shoulder at the happily bouncing boy. "Your--friend may come too, if you both like."  
She followed him into a neat, well-kept room--Baird was obviously much more sensible (although no more shrewd) than the bedraggled Myles. Obediently sitting in a chair by his desk, she looked up expectantly at the Healer.  
For a few moments all Baird did was watch her, seemingly amused. Finally he too sat, and drummed his fingers on the desk's leather surface. "You are much like your brother, Thom. Have you seen him since your coming?"  
Alanna shook her head slowly, her red braids swinging like twin pendulums. "No, your Grace, I have been rather...occupied."  
He narrowed his eyes a moment, then nodded. "Thom was in to see me not thirty minutes past. Apparently young Raoul told him of your arrival. He said you were an accomplished healer. Nice lad, Thom...Strange, but nice."  
Alanna grinned boldly. "You could say that! Whenever Thom burnt himself trying to steal pastries from the ovens...Well, let's just say I have experience in skin grafts."  
The duke chuckled. "You see, miss, I am in need of a ward manager, but you'll need to prove your worth to me, first."  
The redhead nearly jumped out of her chair. "Always up for a challenge, your Grace!"  
He nodded, covering a smile, and led her out into one of the dormitories (Ben hopped after them). "One of my charges, a first-year page, has had a rather nasty case of staff-attraction lately. Would you...?" He gestured to a boy lying in a hospital bed, and Alanna moved closer to see.  
The young page had several cracked ribs and a shattered forearm. he stared weakly up at Alanna as she clucked sympathetically then began giving the poor thing some advice. "You must have had too wide of a grip on the staff--gave your adversary an opening. Next time--"  
Baird coughed.  
Alanna ducked her head, abashed, and laid a cool, gentle hand on the boy's chest. Closing her eyes, she gathered her Gift in a tight ball of energy and fed it into the ribs, fusing cracked bones and knitting the broken membranes back together. Pink new skin appeared on the boy's chest, and he breathed deeply and heavily.  
Letting her magic flow into the crushed arm, Alanna gently eased the splintered bones together. Satisfied, she beamed at the gaping Baird.  
The duke stared a bit, quite taken aback. "Miss Alanna, you healed that boy in less time than I've seen some grown woman heal scrapes in. I'd like for you to report for work at nine o'clock in the morning, until four in the afternoon, with an hour at midday to eat. Head of infirmary two, I'd say." Baird smiled warmly. "You'll do well, lass. Dismissed."  
She gave a little bow, and left, dragging Ben after her.  
  
* * *  
  
Once they had reached her quarters later that night, Alanna turned kindly to the only slightly calmer boy. "Ben," she murmured, as one might speak to a mentally insane person, "Ben, you can't come to work with me. Is there nobody in the city you can stay with?"  
He pouted a little, and shook his head. "Nope. Papa's off in Maren, trying to train his army for desert combat. Not doing too well...  
Alanna sighed wearily. "Listen, can you go to Myles and ask him to help? He said he'd try and protect you, keep you from harm. Maybe he can tell you where to find a nice inn or something. Go on, you know where to find him."  
Ben grinned, and hugged her warmly before skipping off down the corridor. "Okay Lan--I'll see you tomorrow!"  
She smiled affectionately as she watched him go; he was like a second brother. Yawning mightily, she unlocked her rooms and crawled into bed. Night closed in and she fell into a deep slumber.  
  
* * *  
  
The next morning Alanna forced herself up before the break of dawn. Dressed in a fresh healer's tunic and gray leggings, she staggered groggily down to the kitchens and grabbed a slice of warm nutbread spread with clover honey. To her surprise, she enjoyed every last crumb. Grumpy as always, the disheveled girl managed to pull herself together two minutes before nine o'clock--then sprinted across the palace to her assigned clinic. Smiling almost completely genuinely at the old female Healer who was to help her get started, Alanna set to work, building her own domain.  
The dormitory was large, with thirty beds--only about a fifth were in use. The eastern and southern walls were lined with tall, many-paned windows. Each bed was covered with a bright, fleece-lined quilt, brightening the stony mood of the chamber. Early morning sunlight lanced across the granite flags, pooling like golden water in Alanna's face. She liked the quiet serenity of the long, resonant room; it was quite different from the hectic frenzy of the main palace.  
The morning wore on, its lazy, steady flow continuing at much the same pace. But around noon, when the pale winter sun had reached its zenith, someone burst through the door like a ravening hound. It was Raoul, his face troubled and gray.  
The girl hurried over to him, wiping her hands on her sides, and bit her lip to keep from shouting. "What is it, what's wrong?" she asked, her heart throbbing wildly.  
The tall page stepped over the threshold, followed by two servants bearing a canvas stretcher. By now her chest was bursting with suspense and suppressed fear. "What is going ON?" she half-screamed, and her stomach leapt into her throat.  
Raoul motioned for the attendants to lay their burden down, and as they did so and exited a sickening weight sunk in the girl's stomach.  
On the litter lay a twisted, mangled form, bruised and broken and bloodied. It was Ben, and he was dead.  
"Great Merciful Goddess," Alanna murmured, and Raoul steadied her as she swayed. Her fingers trembled slightly as she knelt by the boy's prone form, and gently shut his staring eyes.  
A cold wind blew in through a lofty window. The chatter of chickadees roosting in the forsythia roared in her ears.  
Finally she got to her feet, and let her breath out in a heavy sigh. "How?" she demanded.  
Raoul shuddered, and began to pace the room. "I was going to lunch when Sir Myles staggered up to me--drunk, obviously--and asked me if I'd seen Ben. I gather he was to help the boy find a place to stay?"  
She nodded feebly, and Raoul continued. "He hadn't been anywhere near me since last night, so we decided to spend the meal hour looking for him. To tell the truth, it was somewhat disconcerting, our little Ben missing a meal." He tried to force a smile.  
Alanna froze and glared at the page, who shivered and quickly went on.  
"It was almost scary how easy it was to find him. He wasn't dead when we stumbled upon him, beaten to a pulp in a secluded courtyard, little more than a rag of flesh." His voice dropped an octave, cracking bitterly. "He told us that--that my father had found him in the early hours, brutally tortured him and dropped him in the courtyard for the carrion to feast on. Then he disappeared like the coward he is." Raoul swallowed hard. "I never used to think of him like a monster, but a man who tortures children for little or no good reason?!"  
The girl clenched her teeth to keep them from clattering, and blinked furiously against the welling tears.  
"But Alanna, that's the thing...What did Halles have to gain from Ben's slaughter, even for his own wicked purposes? What's the point? Minus the 'fun' factor?"  
She gulped down the acrid bile surging in her stomach. "Ben is--Ben was the son of General Rygol. Picking him off would be a sort of point scored against King Roald--not to mention a parleying advantage gained over the general. But somehow I don't think that Halles meant to--to kill him." Alanna hated to speak of a little boy's death in such cold terms, but there was nothing for it. "Perhaps he wasn't strong enough to bear the power if so much magic--he overreached himself until his nerve snapped."  
Raoul spread his hands in bewilderment, and slowly, almost shyly, wrapped his arms around her quivering body. "It's okay," he choked, and hugged her tight.  
The old Healer smiled nostalgically at them and disappeared into the hallway.  
She buried her face into his leather-clad shoulder and soaked up his warmth. He was large and strong and comfortable--perfect for leaning on.  
The sun slipped from its perch in the pale periwinkle sky. Cold snow glittered on the hard ground below , ice glowing eerily in the cobbled streets.  
Suddenly Raoul jumped. "I'm late for philosophy!" he wailed, and after planting a hasty kiss on Alanna's cheek, he was gone.  
A giggle escaped from one of the patients nearby. Then a snigger.  
"What?" Alanna inquired suspiciously, hiding the urge to smile at this cheerful diversion.  
The patient, a young girl with a bad fever, grinned cheekily. "That boy of yours in for trouble--the philosophy master had a kidney removed last night. Not too pleased, I'll bet."  
Alanna grinned back and collapsed on an empty bed. Mithros, what a day! she thought grimly. One friend dead, another suddenly kissing me...  
Two glistening tears fell from two violet eyes. One for herself, and the other for the innocent dead.  
Afternoon's golden light played off her copper plaits, melting the hue to a warm amber. She sat there for a long time, listening to the heavy breathing of her charges.  
She was responsible for every one of them. For the protection of their lives. They were her burdens, to be seen as duty or future--it was her decision.  
The next day, during her midday meal, Alanna strode down to the Lord Provost's headquarters. Squaring her shoulders, she gazed coolly up at him through blazing lashes. "My lord? I'd like to press charges of murder on a nobleman whom until recently was at court. I believe you're...acquainted with him."  
  
Over time, the frozen form of Ben was borne away to his father, who buried him tenderly in the green fields of Maren. Far from home.  
  
NEXT UP:  
  
Alanna rolled her eyes and adjusted the poultice on Raoul's chest. "The point remains, this Ralven of Malon--"  
Raoul winced. "Ralon of Malven."  
She scowled impatiently. "Whatever. Anyway, this idiotic thug and his two hulking cohorts started the fight. They're pigs with no honor whatsoever--just a bit of mud from tumbling scullery maids in the kitchen gardens."  
Ralon smirked wryly from the next bed over. "Thanks a load, wench."  
"You're welcome, ass," she retorted, and slapped him on the head. "I'm handy with both knife, bow and staff, just so you know. So cut that 'wench' talk and go to sleep. May nightmares infest your maggoty head."  
  
A/N: About the title: well, "all good things must come to an end" does kinda fit, don't you think? While I was writing this I was afraid it was both too boring and too long (ten pages handwritten, seven hand-typed!) which makes a deadly combination. But you have to get there from here somehow, and I have a lot planned for future chapters. I need to get through December, January, and February so that I can get to March and pull yet ANOTHER Rowling! To learn whom I shall "pull," drop a review! Better yet, review anyway! By the way, I just recently posted an LotR story called The Straight Road Into the West. It's a slightly morbid fic dealing mainly with the feelings of Faramir (whom I repeatedly call "he") as he watches his brother's corpse float down the Anduin. You could review that, too...**cough cough**  
Cheers!  
~**Leah 


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